“Hey yourself, Jack. Thank you for rescuing Cassy. She sure knows how to get herself into some pickles.”
“About that,” I said as my cheeks glowed bright red. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
“Can’t it wait? I have to get this tea service polished for the Junior League luncheon…”
Her voice trailed off as I guided her into the sitting room. Her eyes were wide and bright with fear and her mouth was set in a stiff pink line across her face.
“I’m afraid it can’t wait anymore, mother. Here, you better sit down,” I answered as I guided her down onto the rattan settee beside the window.
Her hands twisted the cloth tight, wringing it out as if it was already filled with her tears.
“It’s about the baby, isn’t it?” she choked as her hand flew to her chest, gripping at the strand of pearls draped against her cardigan.
“Yes, it is, but it’s nothing bad,” Jack answered for me as he came into the room and sat on the ottoman just feet away.
“Jack? What do you know about the baby?”
Her voice was tremulous and weak, barely audible above the sudden din of the vacuum coming on upstairs where the maid was cleaning.
My heart thumped like crazy as I sat down beside her and took her fragile hand in mine. I closed my eyes to find the words, but none came to my lips.
This is gonna be messy, I thought as I met Jack’s warm eyes through the hazy afternoon light pouring through the window. But I have to do it.
Jack nodded and gave me a wink. I nodded back and turned to my mother.
“About the baby…”
“What will your grandmother think?” she sobbed as she lifted the white cloth she’d been holding to her tear-streaked face.
“Mee-maw will understand,” I answered, though I didn’t know if that was strictly true. It’s more likely Mee-maw would just pour another tipple and forget what I’d just told her.
“It’s—it’s unbelievable. It’s bad enough you’re not marrying Cash Jackson, and now this. It’s—it’s a scandal. It’s unnatural.”
“Now hold on, Lucy,” Jack said sternly, his thick brows knotted above his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with me and Cassy. Other folks might whisper or talk about it, but I won’t get into those types of discussions. I love this woman and she’s carrying my child. I will not have you saying a bad word against her, you hear?”
Mother’s icy blue eyes stabbed at him from across the room. She turned away, pretending he hadn’t spoken or that she hadn’t heard him.
“What’s to become of us, of Conrad and me? We’ll be destitute. I thought—I thought for sure you’d come to your senses and do your duty. Instead, you kick me on your way out the door. What foolishness. What blind foolishness, Cassy.”
“You and Conrad? You’re unbelievable,” I gasped as I stood up and stared down at her. “What about me, mother? What about my baby? What about what I want? What about what I need?”
“Cassy, honey,” Jack said as he moved toward me and put his hands on my shoulders. Just his touch was enough to calm me down. “It’s okay. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. And you sure as hell don’t owe it to anyone to sell yourself into a marriage you don’t want just to make them some money.”
“That’s not what we were saying,” mother erupted as she stood up suddenly, her shoulders tense and her head thrust forward in anger. “We saw a good match that could have done wonders for Cassy and we tried to make it work. We did it for her.”
“So, all the money you were going to get from Cash Jackson’s daddy was, what, a finder’s fee? For your daughter?”
Jack’s eyes blazed as he held me close. He was furious. He was more angry than I’d ever seen him. He was like an alpha wolf standing over his mate and cub. I leaned against him, letting his warmth and strength surround me.
“How dare you,” mother said through pursed lips, her cold blue eyes staring hatefully at Jack. “How dare you presume to lecture me on anything, Jack Jolivet.”
“This isn’t a lecture; it’s the truth. If it stings, it’s because it hit a nerve—because you did something wrong.” Jack answered in a strong, unwavering voice. “And here you are, faulting her for not wanting to marry Cash Jackson and defending the idea of marrying her off against her will when you don’t even know what Cash Jackson is.”
Mother threw her head back and stood up straight enough to balance a book on her head.
“I know all about Cash Jackson,” she answered. “He’s good blood. He’s from a good family. He’d take care of Cassy and make sure she never wanted for anything. Unlike some people I know.”
Jack threw back his head with laughter, then ran his hand across the back of his neck. I knew that look; he was trying to find the right words.
“You’re right,” Jack said finally once the laughter subsided. “I never bought you anything fancy or took you to all those restaurants you wanted. Did it ever occur to you that maybe it was done on purpose to see what kind of woman you were?”
Mother startled as if slapped. She backed up a step and cocked her head.
“And I finally did see what kind of woman you were because you showed me. I’m not bitter about it and I’m glad you found happiness as Conrad Peterson’s wife, but don’t presume that everyone is like you, Lucy. Cassy is made of finer and stronger stuff. And she’d decided against Cash Jackson on the night of her coming out. On the night he tried to have his way with her.”
“The night Jack saved me,” I managed to say, though the tension inside me was starting to choke me. “Jack saved me from Cash when I couldn’t save myself. He was hurting me, mother.”
Mother’s eyes went wide. She looked from Jack to me and then back again.
“He never did. He wouldn’t. Why would Cash have to be rough with a woman when he could have anyone. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s just the thing; he can’t have anyone. He couldn’t have me,” I said with a shaky voice. “And he can’t have me now. I have Jack. Jack has me. End of discussion.”
Upstairs the grandfather clock chimed the hour. My stomach growled. A trickle of sweat let loose and slid down my back as we stood in the unseasonably stuffy sitting room.
“I just don’t know what to say,” mother said as she lowered herself onto the settee again. “I—I didn’t know about Cash and I’m sorry, Cassy. But… I still think you’re making a mistake. A terrible mistake. You won’t have any sort of life with him.”
“I will. I will have the exact sort of life I want. One that’s on my own terms, whether you want to be a part of it or not.”
Despite the rage I felt inside, I also felt free. I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. It was the least I could do. I could afford to forgive and be charitable toward her—faults and all—because I was free.
“Jack?” I said as I picked up my purse and slung it over my shoulder. “Shall we?”
“Sure thing, honey.”
“I’ll send for my things in a week or two, mother. Send my love to Conrad.”
Mother’s voice was ragged with hurt feelings. She dabbed away a tear as she watched me get ready to go.
“Where are you going to go?”
Jack and I exchanged a glance. Silently, we embraced.
“Home.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
Chapter 21
“Where are we going?” I asked as I scratched at the blindfold wrapped around my eyes. We’d been in the car for over an hour and I was getting antsy.
“I’m not telling and you better not peek,” Jack laughed as he guided the car down the road.
“And what if I do?” I teased back after I folded my hands in my lap and closed my eyes.
“Then you won’t get your surprise and you’ll be so sad.”
It’d been days since we’d told my mother about our relationship and those days had been bliss. It was like a weight had been lifted off our shoulders. Sure, people stared at us when we’d head into
Buford for supplies, but life at the hunting cabin was like Eden.
Jack’d woke me up from an afternoon nap and told me to get ready, that he wanted to show me something and I didn’t argue. I pulled on a flowered dress and a pair of Doc Martens and hopped in his pickup without a second thought.
Now, I was having second thoughts. But only because I was starving and I had to use the bathroom.
“At least tell me whether or not we’re nearly there,” I pleaded. “I need to eat.”
“We’re nearly there, Cass,” Jack said as he merged onto another road. I could hear the clicking of the turn signal. “Just hold on for ten more minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll give you ten more minutes and not a minute more.”
“Fair enough,” he laughed as he rolled down the window a crack to let in some fresh air.
The air that poured in was so humid, I could practically feel my hair curling. I leaned back against the seat and tried to distract myself from all the cravings I was having.
“Seven more minutes,” I said, though it was only a guess.
“More like five, but I’ll take the extra two minutes, if you’re offering them.”
The car coasted off the road onto what I guessed was an offramp. As inertia set in, I swayed with the truck around a broad bend in the road. It felt like I was flying, like I was free.
Bit by bit, the truck slowed down. We moved down streets that were invisible to me but which I could smell through the half-open windows. Earthy, green smells filled the car along with a smell of cooking that made my mouth water.
“God, this is torture,” I said as Jack twined his fingers through mine and held my hand. He laughed and squeezed my fingers.
“It’s almost over. Just hang in there.”
The car veered smoothly to the side of the road before Jack cut the engine.
“Stay right there. I’m going to come open the door.”
He jumped out and jogged around to my side of the car. As he eased me from the passenger seat, I felt the cool evening air envelope me as soft and sweet as a cloud. His hand slipped around behind my back, guiding me along. In my nose was the scent of magnolias.
“Careful now, the sidewalk is a little uneven. That’s it… step carefully, my love.”
We stood still, both facing something I couldn’t see. I could feel the excitement pouring off Jack like an electric current as he held my waist. I could hear the smile on his face when he said, “Welcome home.”
I blinked ten, twenty times as my eyes adjusted to the twilight. Above stood the Italianate beauty where I’d tracked Jack down, looking majestic and mysterious in the failing daylight. The ornate ironwork had been repainted and the sagging boards plumbed. It glowed a dusky lilac color not unlike the star-pricked sky beyond. In the window burned a light which drew my eye like a beacon.
“Home?”
I looked up at Jack, who was looking down at me. Whatever gifts I’d received in my life were nothing compared to the look in his eyes. He nodded.
“Home.”
I took his hand and walked with him onto the porch. Suddenly, I was flying. I was in his arms, cradled against his chest, weightless of all worry and fear. He stepped me over the threshold into a dream.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered as he set me down on the plush Persian rug in the foyer and kissed me softly.
“Don’t say anything yet. Just come with me.”
We moved through the half-lighted rooms all hushed with the evening calm. The air smelled of warm wood and magnolia blooms as we passed through a half-dozen rooms downstairs, then mounted the broad, sweeping staircase that led to the private chambers upstairs.
“There are six bedrooms,” Jack explained in a low voice as we passed the matching number of doors. Each one was open, showing freshly painted walls and polished floors with a lustrous glow. “Here… Here’s ours.”
At the end of the hall, he pushed open a pair of double doors. They swung open into a wide open space dominated by a four-poster bed and a pair of French windows that looked out into the treetops. White linen covered the bed and two candles in ancient silver holders burned on the black mantlepiece above the fireplace.
“I’d have had the maid light a fire but I thought the night would be too warm,” he said as he pulled me deeper into this room which he called ours.
“I don’t miss it,” I joked as my mouth opened to his, kissing him despite my confusion.
“Me neither. You keep me warm enough.”
In the dim blue evening light, Jack held me close and kissed me again, deeply. Deeply. He walked me back toward the bed as his fingers slipped beneath my dress, peeling it back from my shoulders, his calloused fingers insistent yet gentle.
“Jack… I don’t understand,” I said as my body melted into his, giving up any resistance I had, which was precious little. “This… this is the house you’re restoring. It’s…”
“It’s yours,” he growled, his warm breath tickling my neck as it rifled my hair. “It’s all for you. For her. For us. Come.”
He pulled me to the window and wrapped me in his arms as we looked out into the lush, almost tropical garden. Impossibly old magnolias twisted their strong branches into the evening sky as if reaching for the moon while below a pool glowed with turquoise water.
“This is our garden. You can do whatever you want with it, just leave the trees.”
“You’re not serious,” I answered back. I was certain this was just a fantasy we were playing out, a little diversion to remove us from all the drama we’d faced together the past few weeks.
“I’ll show you how serious I am, Cassidy Peterson,” he answered back as he led me out of the bedroom and across the hall with its polished, black-painted floor and dim crystal scones glinting in the plush purple shadows. “Right this way.”
He halted outside a pair of double doors painted the same lacquered cream as the rest of the walls and moldings. Each door sported a heavy black knob that begged to be turned.
“Are you ready, Miss Peterson?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Jolivet,” I answered with a roll of my eyes. I liked the game we were playing, but I wanted to get back into the bedroom—back to his lips on mine.
“Close your eyes.”
With a shake of my head, I laughed.
“Not that again. Please.”
“Just this one last time. For me.” He set his hand over his heart and looked at me with pleading eyes that I couldn’t refuse.
“Fine,” I sighed as I let my eyes drift shut.
“Alright. Step inside,” he said as he opened the door in front of me.
A rush of air came out to surround me. It carried with it a scent I knew so well it nearly brought tears to my eyes. We stepped inside and he shut the door, plunging us into cozy, velvety quiet.
“Take two steps forward. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
I moved deeper into the room with its heavy, sweet, precious smell. The smells of books.
“Open your eyes.”
“Jack,” I gasped as my eyes took it all in. It was unbelievable, like something out of a dream.
Shelves and shelves of books—thousands of them. A million of them, maybe. The vaulted ceiling was lined with tiered bookshelves, each accessible by a sliding, polished wood ladder. An ornate hearth dominated one end of the room with two stuffed chairs and a pair of tall windows that let the last of the evening light pour in.
“Do you like it?” he asked as he stepped in and looked up as if seeing the room for the first time. The way his gaze scrutinized every inch of the room told me he’d made it with his own two hands.
“It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen,” I answered as I moved toward the shelves. “You did all this by yourself?”
“I had help. It’s a big job and it had to be perfect.”
The books closest to me smelled sweetly of leather. Ornate lettering marked the spines, but I couldn’t read it in the dim light. Everywhere I looked, I saw th
ings that delighted me. Globes and little silver frames and crystal clusters and beautifully sewn pillows. It was as if he’d made a room from my imagination.
“Picky client?”
“I wouldn’t describe her as picky,” he said as he moved behind me with his hand on the small of my back. I could feel the warmth of his touch radiating through my thin cotton dress. “I just wanted her to have the best. I wanted it to be perfect.”
“I think you succeeded. It’s lovely. Your client is a lucky lady—and rich, if she was able to afford all this.”
“She’s not rich. Not yet,” he answered as he stepped away and walked into the middle of the room, his head tilted back to look up at the shelves, the crown molding, the chandelier hanging way up high.
“Well, I’m no expert on running a business, but it doesn’t seem like you should do a job like this on credit,” I teased as I went and slipped my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest.
“That’s good advice. Still, I’m not worried. It’s all paid for,” he said as he kissed my hair.
“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s nice to get away from Buford and this house… it’s gorgeous.”
“I’m glad you think so. Would you ever live in a house like this?”
“Like this?” The question was interesting to me. I never saw myself living in such a grand place. “Sure, why not. What’s not to love about it?”
Jack bent down to kiss my lips, then slid down onto the ground in front of me… onto one knee.
“Jack,” I gasped as he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. My heart warred with my ribs and I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me.
“Cassy,” Jack said in a low voice as he took my hand and pressed into it a key.
I held it up to look at it. Heavy and iron, the ornate black key was the length of my hand.
“I don’t understand,” I said as I admired its weight and sinuous lines.
“It should be a ring, but there’s time for that later. Would you—would you live here with me? Would you marry me, Cassy?”
The Debutante Page 15
